


Holiday Spirit

by queenmab_scherzo



Series: In the Deed the Glory [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: All Kinds of Fluff, Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - Sports, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Romantic Fluff, i just couldn't get through a fic without a little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9032435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmab_scherzo/pseuds/queenmab_scherzo
Summary: Steve and Bucky have a Christmas tradition. Ever since they were 12 years old, they have exchanged gifts by giving each other whatever they find in their pockets. It's dumb. They keep doing it anyway.





	1. 2012

_December 25; One year after Strong Safety._

* * *

 

"Aw, man. Why'd it have to snow _today_."

Steve looks up from the pancake mix and turns toward Bucky's voice. 

You can see all the way from their kitchen to the front window in their new little brick house in Simon, Illinois. Steve has an apartment in Chicago, too, but he has a couple days off for Christmas. For Bucky, it's Bowl Season. In two days, Nick Fury and the ASU squad are flying to Pasadena for the Rose Bowl. So technically, even though Bucky doesn't have to go to work on Christmas day, the film study never really ends.

"What do you mean?" Steve calls out to the front room. "We have a white Christmas! That's a good thing!"

"Yeah but if it snowed _tomorrow_ , I might be able to skip work."

Steve drifts into the living room. Bucky turns to face him, framed from behind by the bright white snowlight, and the little sparkles of color from their Christmas tree. He looks soft, like an overexposed photo from thirty years ago. Steve can feel the smile all the way from his forehead to his neck. He wraps his arms around Bucky's waist and pulls him in. 

"You wouldn't skip work," Steve says, and that's true.

"I ain't takin the Stingray out in this," Bucky counters, and that's also true.

"You'd walk if you had to."

"You'll drop me off if you have to."

Steve kisses him. Bucky's lips are cold, which is just a good excuse for Steve to warm them up, and while he is distracted doing so, Bucky slides cold fingers up the back of his shirt.

"God!" Steve squeals.

Bucky cackles. "What was that _noise_?!"

"That was--that was the sound of-- _surprise_ , and _betrayal!_ "

"Drama queen," Bucky snorts. But he removes his cold hands and gives Steve's ass a light squeeze. "Pancakes?" he suggests, then his eyes go wide: "No, presents!"

Steve grins. "We can do presents."

"What did you get me?" Bucky asks, sliding away and giving Steve an appraising look. Steve's not flattered; he knows Bucky is just checking to see if his pants have pockets.

"Let's see," Steve says, reaches into his flannel pants, and pulls out a crumpled blue package. "Airline peanuts."

Laughter breaks across Bucky's face as he takes the package and tears it open. "You shouldn't have."

"Those are fresh, you know," Steve says as seriously as he can, "They're from the flight back from Phoenix."

"This is the good stuff, huh?" Bucky says through a mouthful of peanuts.

Bucky slides away to forage in his pockets. "Looks like ..." he frowns, digs for a moment, then squeezes his eyes shut. It's the very picture of dismay. "Goddammit."

"What?" Steve asks.

Bucky takes a deep, labored breath. Slowly, he pulls something out of his pocket and hands it over.

Steve blinks. 

Then he literally leaps into the air. ".... Yes. Yes. YES!"

" _Nooo_ ," Bucky groans.

"Yes!!" Steve wraps Bucky in a hug and twirls him in a circle. "I get to drive the Stingray. I get to drive the Stingray."

"Once!" Bucky barks.

" _I get to drive the Stingray!!!_ " Steve ignores him, clutching the car keys in one hand and planting a wet kiss on Bucky's lips. "I get to drive the Stingray!" He releases Bucky and darts toward the garage.

"No, whoa, whoa, fuck you! Not in the snow!!"


	2. 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 25; three years after Strong Safety.

In 2014, the NCAA introduces the College Football Playoff. Rather than a computer system single-handedly deciding on which two teams to face off in the National Championship, a committee of qualified individuals (former coaches, former athletic directors, former staff) select four teams to face off in a brief play-off. These four teams compete in normally scheduled Bowl games. The winners of those games face off in the College Football Playoff National Championship Game in January.

Unsurprisingly, American State is one of four teams selected to compete in the inaugural playoff.

Not to mention Steve's last regular-season game is in three days.

Bucky is stressed.

It's a little before seven in the morning when Steve is putting coffee on and he first hears the shower start. He considers the kitchen counter. The frying pan and the egg carton are ready to go. Then he considers their bedroom: he can already see the mirror over his dresser fogging up.

Steve sighs. If Bucky left the bathroom door open, that means he's not planning on a long shower. So Steve sets to work on breakfast and, sure enough, no more than eight minutes later, Bucky is giving him a warm, damp hug from behind.

A handful of dorky jokes come to mind, but they're all swept away by Bucky's fingertips on his ribs and the tip of Bucky's nose pressed against his back. "Morning, baby."

"Mmfrf," Bucky mumbles against Steve's shoulder blade.

Steve smiles and stirs the scrambled eggs. They're almost done. "You sleep at all?" he asks softly.

"Hm-mm." Bucky sounds pitiful; Steve can barely hear him over the hiss of steaming eggs and sausage links. He gives them one more good turn in the pan, then takes them off the burner.

"You ready for breakfast?"

Bucky lifts his head just enough to be understood. " _Yes_."

Steve chuckles. He turns and loops an arm around Bucky's shoulders, pressing his nose into his wet hair. He smells Bucky's mismatched mixture of Axe and Old Spice. "You can take it easy, you know. It's Christmas."

Bucky groans. "The boys are logging workouts this afternoon. I have to see the trainers after that ... they're still not sure if Locke will be able to start. They want to wrap his cast up and throw him out there, but ..." Bucky makes a face, then buries it against Steve's shoulder.

"Yeah." Steve knows. Locke is their best linebacker, but the sprained wrist ... yeah. He knows just how Bucky feels about that.

Bucky squirms a little and breathes in through his nose. "Is that my Christmas present or are you just happy to see me."

"Oh," Steve smiles, "both."

Bucky pulls away and gives Steve a gentle shove. "Tease." He reaches around to the back pocket of his jeans. "I got your present, you know."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, let's see ..." Bucky pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to Steve. 

A slow smile creeps across his lips. It's a pair of sparkly red tickets with a familiar logo. "Bulls?"

"They play Brooklyn next week," Bucky says. His nonchalant shrug does nothing to mask the fact that he's clearly pleased with himself. He's chewing his bottom lip just to keep from smiling.

"These just happened to be in the pocket of your jeans, this morning?"

"Ah, yeah," Bucky says lightly. Then he breaks into a sheepish grin. "You deserve something nice this year. For signing that fancy franchise contract and all."

Steve can feel his cheeks grow hot. He did sign that contract. His rookie deal is up after this season, and the Bears weren't going to take any chances with him; they sat Steve down with Coulson and their officials and came up with the most generous contract they could manage without bankrupting the team. They were going to offer him more, actually, but Steve talked them out of it. ("I need you to be able to afford a good O-line, alright?") 

It's funny Bucky should bring the contract up, this morning.

"Bulls tickets," Steve says, smiling. 

"Yeah, yeah, don't get sappy or anything, punk." Bucky rolls his eyes and hops onto the edge of the kitchen counter. "What did you get me?"

Steve can't stop smiling. He wanted to play it cool and all, but Jesus, he just can't. He reaches into the pocket of his flannel pajamas and pulls out a set of keys. "There you go."

Bucky frowns a little. Steve can see the questions marks play across his face. After a second, Bucky gives him a funny smile. "Used Beemer," he says, referring to Steve's car key. "Awesome. I mean, it's not a Corvette, but."

"There's other keys on there, Buck."

Bucky blinks. He fiddles with the key to the BMW and the old scratched Captain America keychain. The other two keys match each other. "This isn't our house key."

"Nope." Steve says, still grinning hard. Then he amends himself: "Well ..."

Bucky's mouth falls open. "Steve."

"What?"

"Steve."

"Bucky."

"Is this ...?" He looks a little closer at the unfamiliar keys, then casts his gaze about the room. His mouth is still hanging open and his face is red. "Steve, _seriously_."

"Well," Steve can't keep the secret for long. "We had it narrowed down to three, and I know you were leaning toward the one ..."

"What the fuck."

"I have a couple pictures on my phone, if you want--"

"What _the fuck_."

"--but it's the one we looked at first."

"The one in Lakeview?" Bucky gasps. "North of Soldier Field?"

"Yeah."

That's when Bucky falls off the counter.

Well, he almost falls--he starts to jump off and loses balance and Steve catches him before he breaks any dishes or glasses or bones. "Hey, hey hey--"

Bucky throws his arms around Steve's neck, and gazes at him, eyes swimming. "You asshole."

"I'm ...?"

"You got me a house."

Steve chuckles.

"You asshole, you got me a _house_ ," Bucky says. The tears spill over; Steve chases them with kisses.

"I had to get you something nice after signing that fancy contract."

"Yeah, like tickets to a fucking basketball game, not a _fucking house_."

Steve reaches around for the keys. "Fine, I'll keep it for myself."

Bucky dances out of the way. "Oh no you don't."

"No?" Steve chases him across the kitchen. "You want it for yourself?"

"Fuck off, it's my house, my boyfriend got it for me."

Steve catches him around the waist and kisses the back of his neck. "Merry Christmas," he whispers against the soft short hairs there. 

Bucky giggles. "Yeah. Yeah. You're coming with me, right?"

"I'm coming with you."

 


	3. 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve are 29.

The Barnes-Rogers household is full. Their great room as a fat 12-foot tree in the front window, weighed down under green beads and red garland and silver lights and tons of mismatched Hallmark ornaments the Bradley girls picked out. But it's full, everyone is there, everyone but Isaiah and his mother. Ice had a Monday night game the night before. A big division matchup. Since Mrs. Bradley lives out in Boston now, it was easier for them to have a quiet Christmas in town.

And Christmas in Chicago is far from quiet.

Christmas Eve is a whirlwind. Kate spends the day baking, Eli spends the day prepping for Christmas dinner, Sam spends the day mixing drinks, the Bradley girls spend the day chasing each other with stuffed dinosaurs, and Steve spends the day putting clean sheets in all the guest rooms. Bucky spends the day refereeing all of these activities. He spends some time in the kitchen, some time drinking and flirting with Steve, some time drinking and flirting with Sam, and some time herding children in and out of busy rooms.

The idea is that everyone will sleep well the night before Christmas, and that works. But that doesn't keep Monica and Tanya (and Steve) from rocketing out of bed at six in the morning.

"Come on Bucky, it's Christmas!"

"Mnrfnms nah it's fuckin early."

"Come on Bucky, the girls are up."

"Fine."

Eli, Kate, and the girls are waiting in the main room when Steve drags Bucky out of bed. "Are we ready?" he asks the room.

"Yes!" Monica and Tanya both squeal and dive at presents. 

They've already opened one each when Sam wanders into the front room.

"You didn't wait for me?"

"Nope," Bucky looks up, grinning. He presses himself closer to Steve's side and pats the cushion beside him. "But we saved you a seat."

Sam rolls his eyes. But he also flops into the empty spot next to Bucky.

"Here, Sam!" Monica calls, tumbling toward them. "We got you a present!"

"You sure did," he says, all smiles, just like that. He opens the present and smiles even wider. "You got me a Falcon!"

"She's from the zoo," Monica confirms."

"She's a peregrine falcon!" Tanya adds.

Eli sighs fondly. "Here we go."

"Peregrine falcons are the fastest animal on the _whole planet_ did you know they can fly two hundred miles an _hour_ that's faster than cheetahs and gazelles and even faster than _race cars_."

"Cool," Sam says. What else can you say to that kind of enthusiastic 8-year-old monologue? "Thank you. Is it cause I'm a falcon?"

Tanya stares blankly.

"Steve we got a present for you too!" Monica interrupts, and the morning races on.

The girls give Steve a bear and Bucky an eagle, and Tanya explains how grizzly bears catch fish with their paws and eagles mate for life. ("Yeah they do!" Sam cackles. "Just look at 'em!" Bucky discreetly flips him off, but also doesn't move from his comfortable spot half-way in Steve's lap.)

Monica and Tanya have the biggest haul: lots of animal-themed toys, coloring books for Tanya and middle grade books from Monica's favorite series, video games for Tanya, new softball gear for Monica. But everyone else has a good year, too. Eli gives Kate a new iPad, Bucky gives sam a pair of classic Jordans, and Sam gives Steve and Bucky a goddamn ATV. He makes everyone go out to the garage to see it, and everything.

"I thought about getting you a jet ski, but I dunno all the rules about that in Lake Michigan and all."

When they all return to the living room, Eli starts in on a giant box addressed to himself from Kate. He tears through the paper and untapes all the cardboard and discovers--

"Oh, you brat," Eli says, pulling out another fully-wrapped box.

"Go ahead, open it," Kate says smugly.

So it takes Eli a good ten minutes to get through his present-within-a-present-within-a-present.

While they're all watching him struggle, Bucky pokes Steve in the ribs.

"Hey hey, don't make me spill my coffee!" Steve protests, fooling nobody through his goofy smile. "What's up?"

"What did you get me?"

Steve shifts a little so he can reach in his pocket. He makes a sour little face, and hands a slip of paper to Bucky.

"Oh, you shouldn't have," Bucky teases, unfolding the paper. "My lucky numbers are 3, 10, 17, 33, and 45. Hey, 17! And my fortune says ... 'Your love life will soon be happy and harmonious.'"

"Oh, nice."

"Yeah, about time. I've been waiting forever."

"Thanks, Buck. What did you get me, smarty-pants?"

"What did you just call me?"

"I've been hanging out with ten-year-old girls all week, sorry." Steve shuffles a little bit. "So, what did you get me?"

Bucky shifts so he can reach in his pockets. Across the room, Eli unwraps another box and reveals another wrapped gift. ("Really, Katherine?")

"Oh," Bucky whispers. He digs a little deeper in his pockets, but-- "Oh my god. I didn't get you anything."

"What!"

Bucky cackles. "Nothing. Sorry, kid. My _charm and wit_ will have to hold you over, this year."

"Lucky me," Steve says drily.

"You two are weird," Sam announces, and stands up. "Anyone else want coffee refills?"

Kate and Eli aren't really paying attention, at this point, so Sam leaves the room rolling his eyes.

"You don't have _anything_ in your pockets?" Steve says, pulling Bucky closer.

"I mean, my pockets are empty," Bucky says, lowering his voice. "But if you reach down there, you might find something nice."

"--Oh yeah?" Steve breathes.

"Maybe." Bucky gives him a soft kiss on the side of the neck.

"That will be a fun present to unwrap."

Bucky presses his lips to Steve's ear. "You should probably wait til tonight," he whispers, then pushes himself off the couch. "Sam's in the kitchen, want me to get you some more coffee?"

"Get--I'm--yeah," Steve croaks. "Coffee would--coffee. Right. I'll be. Gonna sit here, for a minute. Just."

"Settle down, now."

Steve scowls, and shifts a little on the couch.

"Oh my god, all that for Bears tickets?!" Eli shouts.

"Those are super good tickets, what are you talking about?" Kate cries.

"Steve can get me Bears tickets any--I mean, thanks. Thank you. Thanks Katie."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."


	4. 2021

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky are 32.

Steve rolls himself out of bed at 6 am on Christmas Day, and for once, he's not happy about it. This year, it's not because of excitement or holiday spirit or kids running around; this year, it's just him and Bucky, and he has to _work_ , of all things. It's Saturday, which means the day before gameday, which means they try to take things as light as possible--but Steve still has practice at nine.

So he gets up super early to make Bucky breakfast. 

After fifteen minutes, the house is still quiet. Steve has turned on all the Christmas lights, including their gorgeous tree, pulled out all the ingredients for waffle batter, and started the coffee pot. The whole first floor smells like coffee and flour, but there's no sign of movement from Bucky, not even a shower running.

He's not a morning person, but they both knew the arrangement, today.

Curious, Steve tiptoes back to the bedroom and eases the door open.

The room is still dark, and Bucky is still facedown in a lump on his side of the bed.

Steve hops onto the empty side and crawls across the sheets. "Bucky. Come on, Buck. Breakfast."

"No."

Steve smiles and gives Bucky a little poke somewhere near his hips. "Buck. Come on, lazy."

Bucky doesn't move. "No, Steve, I'm for real," he croaks, his voice raspy.

"You sick?" Steve asks instantly, gripping Bucky's shoulder.

"No."

Steve's heart sinks. Physically, actually, he can feel a weight in his chest sink straight to his guts. "Is it a bad day?" he whispers.

"Mm."

 _Fuck_.

It's been months since Bucky woke up with a migraine. Of course it would come today, of all days. It's times like these that Steve could just _cry_ from the unfairness. "Hey," he whispers, curling forward to kiss Bucky's hair, "I'll be back."

He moves quickly, returning all the breakfast ingredients to the cupboards, filling himself a mug of black coffee, and procuring an ice pack from the freezer. On the way out, he grabs a clean dish towel from off the counter.

The sun is rising, but their bedroom is still dark, thankfully. They have heavy curtains to keep out the cold in the winter and the sweltering sun in the summer. Nice side effect: they keep the room at optimal migraine-friendly levels of lighting. Steve sets his coffee on an end table, then eases onto his side of the mattress, trying his best not to jostle Bucky at all. He wraps the ice pack in the dish towel and lays it softly on the back of Bucky's neck. A little whimper escapes the nest of blankets, effectively shattering Steve's heart to pieces.

Then he settles in with his coffee, one hand stroking Bucky's hair--so light he can barely feel it. But there's nothing else he can do. There's nothing else he can _do_. It's the worst, watching his husband just lay there in pain and have to _let it happen_.

After a few minutes, he can hear Bucky sniffle and clear his throat.

He's probably crying. It happens sometimes, with the migraines; the tears will just stream down his face, even while he smiles and says _it's fine_.

Steve can't see his face now, but he can hear him sniff, again.

"Just relax, baby, you're okay."

"Got you something."

"... What?"

"A present."

"Stop, you don't have to worry about that."

"No," Bucky protests, and shifts a little so he can brush Steve's fingers with his own. "I got you something. For real this time."

Talk about heart-shattering. "Buck--aw, you know you're not supposed to--come on, are you serious?"

Bucky relaxes again. He pulls the covers up around his chin. "In my sock drawer."

They're not _supposed_ to get each other any presents for Christmas, technically. But at least one of them breaks that rule just about every year. Steve hopes he doesn't find something incredible, like a house or a Chevy, because this was a quiet year for him, and with Bucky in bed like this--anyway. He wants Bucky to have as good a day as he possibly can, is the point.

Gently, he slides off the mattress and pads over to Bucky's dresser. The drawer creaks when it opens, and Steve winces, but Bucky seems unbothered. Inside he finds several socks, some with pairs, and some without; and among them, a blank white envelope overflowing with--something. He takes it back to the bed and perches on the side of the mattress.

"You write me a letter or something?" he teases softly.

Bucky huffs what is probably a laugh.

Steve opens the envelope and peers inside. He pulls out the contents and instantly recognizes them as football tickets. He's about to say something, but it's a huge stack--at least ten. Then he gets a closer look at the one on top. "ASU vs. WVU" glows on top in bright holographic letters. Below that is the logo for Lucas Oil Stadium, where the Indianapolis Colts play their home games. Steve frowns. He played West Virginia at Lucas Oil Stadium his last year of college.

"Buck ...?"

No answer.

Steve shuffles through the tickets. Northwestern at ASU. Xavier at ASU. ASU at Wilder. His heart skips a beat: ASU at Southeast State.

The BCS Championship game in Arizona.

"Oh, Bucky."

"From your Heisman year," he mumbles from the mountain of blankets.

"Yeah," Steve whispers.

"Your national championship."

Now Steve is really holding back tears. He crawls back to Bucky and kisses him lightly on the temple. "Thank you," he whispers.

"S'okay."

So it's not a house, but _damn_.

"Hey, Buck?" he asks carefully. "I know you don't feel good, but I got you a present, too."

"Not supposed to get me presents."

" _Bucky_ ," he scolds softly. "I just--it's nothing big. It came in the mail yesterday, but I was just going to show you today."

"...Yeah?"

"We got approved," Steve says. "The foster agency finally got back to us. Our application was approved."

Bucky doesn't answer. He doesn't move, either, for a long time. Five minutes pass, and Steve thinks maybe he fell back asleep, which is the best thing for him, anyway. Then the blankets rustle, and the ice pack shifts. "Steve?"

Bucky's hand appears, and Steve reaches for it. "Hey, Buck."

"Love you."

"Yeah." Okay. Okay, now Steve is for sure crying. "Love you too."

"Merry Christmas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys!!!! hi! 
> 
> this was almost as unexpected for me as it was for you. i sat in a car for 8 hours yesterday and dreamed up some targeting christmas scenes, and then spent most of the day baking and thinking i wouldn't ever write them down. but here we are. 
> 
> there's probably 2-ish more chapters, but it's time for bed. happy holidays everyone :)


	5. 2024

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky are 35.

 "Oh, you ... you got me new shoes!" Bucky says, genuinely surprised. They're not bad shoes, either. Brand new Nikes in ASU colors.

"Your old shoes falling apart," Alex points out. "You can't look like a scrub on the sidelines, Coach."

"I dunno if I'm allowed to wear Nikes on the sidelines."

Alex looks baffled and even horrified by such a restriction.

Bucky shrugs. "UnderArmour contract."

(He can see Steve rolling his eyes from across the room.)

"Anyway," Bucky says, reaching under the tree and inspecting a gift, "this one's for Nico."

She takes the gift with a dry "Thanks," and unwraps it carefully. The tape goes first, and then she unfolds the paper, trying to keep it in one piece. Alex kicks his feet up on the coffee table and starts to read the back of the package for his new Nintendo game. Steve looks anxious, which is more or less how Bucky feels. 

This is Nico's first Christmas with them, and she's been hard to shop for, at best. She hasn't expressed a whole lot of pleasant emotion toward anything other than her bedroom and her headphones for the last six months--but she does tricks with the dog and she talks during dinner and she's set to graduate in May, so it's hard to judge her levels of happiness.

"Oh, sweet," she says without any inflection whatsoever. "The new Kendrick Lamar."

"That's from me!" Alex pipes up.

"Thanks," she says, again emotionless. Or maybe just ... satisfied. It's hard to tell. Nico holds her cards close to the chest. She never smiles, and it's impossible to tell when she's being sarcastic or just angry, and whenever possible she hides most of her face behind her hair. Bucky thinks it's unnerving.

It's not like Alex, who's been around more than two years, and isn't afraid to tell Steve and Bucky exactly what he wants and what he likes and what he's up to--and how bad their shoes look. Which is fine, because like, every kid's different and all. Bucky loves them both. 

But Nico is hard to shop for.

She sets the CD on top of her stack, which is mostly books and other CDs, plus the new iPhone. She folds her legs quietly. "Next?"

"Um," Bucky says. "This one's for ... also me. Isn't there anything here for Steve?"

"I got the espresso maker already," he says. "And a couple movies."

"Right." Bucky's not great at getting gifts. But he tears into this one, fast at first, and then he slows down when he realizes there's some kind of paperback inside. "From Nico?"

She shrugs.

He unwraps the rest of the gift--a stack of Carolina Panther programs. Bucky runs a hand over the first cover, and then slides it over to see the one underneath. They're from over ten years ago.

"So I had to do a lot of reading on Wikipedia because I don't know shit about football," Nico explains. "And I also don't _care_ about football, but I thought it would be cool if I could find ... well. They're from when you played, right?"

Alex perks up and leans over the arm of the couch for a better look. "Are you kidding?!" he exclaims. "No way!"

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky says, blinking fast. "Yeah these are--these are my year with the Panthers." He shuffles through the stack. There are four of them from various home games. "Oh my god."

He hands one over to Alex, who looks giddy.

"It's not all of them," Nico admits. "But they have you in them."

"Nico, this is--wow," Bucky adds. "This is really crazy. Thank you. I can't believe you found these."

"Ebay," she shrugs.

Over her shoulder, Steve has that lovesick look on his face like he's about to give one of his patented sweet-talk-speeches.

"Dude!" Alex says, breaking the heartburst spell on the room. "There's a picture of Bucky here! You played with James _Rhodes?!_ "

Steve claps his hands and pulls himself up off the squashy armchair, the herringbone one from Pier One that sucks you in as soon as you sit down. "Alright!" he announces. "Who wants breakfast?"

"Yes!" Bucky and Alex say in unison.

Nico rolls her eyes. "You guys are such jocks."

"And you're a geek," Alex counters. "We all got our thing."

"I'll take those noise-canceling headphones _back_ ," Nico threatens. "I'm older than you, jerk."

Alex is already ignoring her, though, engrossed in the old Panther programs and apparently on a mission to find all the physical evidence he can of Bucky's brief NFL career. Bucky takes the silence as an opportunity to take control.

" _You_ two quit fighting," he says, "it's fucking Christmas." (Nico snorts.) "I'll be right back," he adds, pulling himself off the floor. He ducks into the kitchen, leaving a mostly quiet living room behind. (Their threats are usually empty; Nico is 18 and Alex 16, and their interests are far enough apart not to start arguments. Plus they're actually awesome kids, _if_ you ask Bucky Barnes.)

Steve has his head in the fridge, digging around the bottom shelf, which gives Bucky a really excellent view from behind. He sidles up to Steve, quiet enough not to get his attention, and slides his hands in both back pockets.

" _Hey!_ " Steve up sharply. "God, you're gonna give me a heart attack."

"Sorry," Bucky grins. "Can't resist," he adds, and gives Steve's ass a squeeze.

Steve turns around, and Bucky's hands come free. "You're just trying to find your present," Steve accuses.

"Nah, I know you'll get me something good."

As if on cue, Steve reaches into one of his front pockets. "Always," he says, handing his gift over.

"Chapstick?"

"Thought you could use it," Steve says unnecessarily, reaching for Bucky's waistband and pulling him closer. Bucky goes to him, of course, instant and easy, it's always so easy, he's always so easy.

Absently, he sticks a hand up Steve's shirt. "You saying my lips are too dry?"

"No, no," Steve says. He lifts a thumb to Bucky's bottom lip, staring down at it so his eyelashes fan across his cheeks. "I just don't want them to break, you know?"

"So you just _happened_ to have chapstick in your pocket?" Bucky asks, and kisses the pad of Steve's thumb.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve breathes.

"Nice try," Bucky says, poking Steve in the chest with the tube of Chapstick. "But this is still sealed."

They're ridiculous, and Steve is ridiculous and beautiful and he can't stop taking care of Bucky. Crazy, right? That it's Bucky he wants to take care of, back then, today, always, whenever? Crazy. It makes Bucky crazy. He reaches into a pocket for his own present and holds it between their chests.

"For me?" Steve says, taking the tickets. "Oh--sideline passes, Buck? Are you kidding?"

"I'm the defensive coordinator, I can take my family to the College Football Playoff if I want."

"Three tickets?"

"Yeah, you and Alex want to go, right?" Bucky shrugs. "If Nico wants to stay home that's fine. But I got her one in case."

Steve's eyes drift over Bucky's shoulder.

"Oh, hey Nico."

Bucky leaps out of Steve's arms. Which is stupid, because it's not exactly a secret that they're married, and like, PDA in front of the kids isn't off-limits or whatever but--he's _surprised_ , okay. It was a surprise. He leapt out of Steve's arms because of the _shock factor_.

"Did you need something?" he asks stupidly.

"I might go to the football game," Nico says, confirming that she heard the most awkward part of that conversation, of course. "Is it gonna be cold?"

"It's in Miami."

"Oh." She hesitates. Draws the silence out a little uncomfortably long. "Football is dumb," she says, finally. "But Miami ..."

"You can think about it," Bucky says. "It's not a big deal. You could just come to Florida with us."

"Yeah," she says. "Maybe." Then she turns to Steve, sticking her hands in the pockets of her Star Wars hoodie. "Can I help with breakfast?"

"Um," he says, looking at the eggs, then back at Nico. "Sure. You--yeah, I was thinking omelets."

"I like cooking, you know."

Steve and Bucky blink at her.

"Awesome," Bucky says, right as Steve exclaims, "Perfect! Omelets it is!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i wrote "new Nintendo game" i felt like it seemed very out of place, but you wait. nintendo will be back on top in 2024, you heard it here first.
> 
> eta: yes, that's bucky barnes being a GIANT HYPOCRITE about people who never smile or talk or express themselves. yes, they're all hopeless and adorable.


	6. 2026

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky are 37.

"You brat," Bucky says, unwrapping his gift from Alex. "You _brat_."

"Put it on!"

"No."

" _Buck_ ," Steve scolds.

"This is an Alabama hat. I'm not wearing an Alabama hat."

Alex makes a little fake-shocked noise. "Don't talk about my team like that!"

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky makes a face, grumbling. "I still can't believe they stole you out from under Nick's nose."

"Coach Fury is _retiring_ ," Alex protests. He shifts a little on the big area rug next to the tree, stretching both legs out and poking Bucky's thigh with his toes. " _You_ know he's retiring, _I_ know he's retiring, everyone in the _country_ knows he's retiring. He just hasn't _announced_ it yet."

"Alright, alright." Bucky can't argue with that. He can't confirm or deny it, either, since Fury is keeping it under tight wraps.

But this _hat_. Ugh. As a self-respecting northerner, Bucky really can't look at this hat without rolling his eyes.

"Put the hat onnnnnn," Alex whines.

So Bucky puts it on.

"Take a picture quick," Bucky growls. 

Steve is almost out of his chair laughing. He does take the picture, too. 

"Okay, okay," Bucky rolls his eyes. "Don't be a big show-off, now. What's in _your_ bag, Rogers?" he asks, nodding at the giant gift bag in Steve's lap.

He gently takes out the layers of tissue paper--and layers and layers of it--and then pulls out an armful of rich crimson fabric.

"Alex."

"You _both_ gonna be reppin' Bama in the fall."

Now Bucky gets to laugh. Steve turns the hoodie around to reveal _ALABAMA_ in neat block letters and a sleek Nike logo. Which--like, if you gotta concede one thing, it's this: at least Alabama knows how to keep it simple. They'd call it _class_. But anyway.

Bucky gets a picture of Steve holding it before ordering him to put it on.

"Yeah, okay," Steve says drily. "You're both hilarious."

He's pulling the hoodie on over his old T-shirt, so you know, one of those all-bark-no-bite situations.

Bucky cocks his head and thinks about it. Steve does have a lot of bite, if you think about it. He saves it for basically everyone outside the household, though.

The household is small, this year: Steve, Bucky, and Alex are alone for Christmas. There have been a handful of other kids over the years, and David was the most recent, but he left around the time school started. Their friends are all scattered, this year: busy with football (Sam), keeping it chill with their own family (Ice and Eli), inexplicably out of the country (Nat and Clint), or have already migrated south for the winter (Rhodey, who recently began describing himself as "too old for this shit" and spends most of his time at a Florida vacation property.)

So it's just the three boys, this year. That meant not a lot of gifts under the tree, but lots of opportunity for relaxation.

Well, in between training, coaching, practicing, working out, studying, and Steve's Sunday gamedays.

Still. Pretty relaxing.

"Alex's turn," Steve declares, waving at the little bag in front of the tree. It's one of two gifts left, thanks to Steve and Bucky's annual weirdness, and that would seem paltry if Bucky didn't know what was up.

Alex groans as he crawls on all-fours over to the gift. "Gettin' old," he jokes.

"Don't even," Bucky deadpans.

Alex grins at him, then settles down with the little bag in his lap. "Hold on," he says, in that ultra-serious way that is, as a result, not serious at all. (It's a Steve thing, Bucky thinks, and then tries very hard not to think about it because he'll get emotional.) Alex holds up both hands. "This might take awhile." Then he pulls out the single piece of tissue paper and stares at the bottom of the bag.

"What the fuck."

"Don't fucking swear," Bucky says. 

"No, guys, what--" Alex stares at Steve, then Bucky, then back at the bag. Then he surges to his feet. "Is it here?!"

Steve bursts into laughter while Alex points his nose toward the garage.

"Maybe," Bucky says, but Alex is already gone.

"Jesus he's fast," Steve smiles as he gives Bucky a hand up. 

"That's what all the recruiters say," Bucky agrees.

They follow him to the garage. When they get to the mudroom that leads to the interior door, Alex comes rocketing back and shoves Steve so hard he almost falls. (It's Steve, so--kind of a brick wall situation--but yeah. Alex does okay for himself.)

"You guys!!!"

"That gonna be okay?" Bucky asks, flipping the nearest switch.

Light floods the garage, illuminating a beautiful, pristine new red Camaro with black trim.

Alex is _beside_ himself. He's all teeth ear-to-ear, and he holds his hands out over the hood like he's too afraid to touch it. That sight alone is way more beautiful than any Chevy. He gives Steve a little side-hug and releases him just as fast.

"Okay, okay, _okay_ ," Alex says. He's not quite jumping up and down, but you can see it in his eyes, anyway. He whirls around, still beaming, and points at Bucky. "I mean it's not a Corvette but it's _okay!_ "

"Good," Bucky grins back.

"We figured," Steve says, "you know, going off to Alabama and all, you'd need a good set of wheels to get around."

"Ohmigod _yes_." Alex presses his forehead to the driver's-side window, then pops up again. "Can I take it out now?!"

Steve stutters. "Now? Now--I mean, I don't--you _can_ , I guess, it's freezing and all--"

"You got one more present," Bucky cuts in.

They both look turn to face him, Steve with his big blue eyes and Alex with his big brown eyes, and they both really make Bucky _melt_ , why is this on _him_.

He rolls his eyes. "Come on inside. Geez. You're both dorks."

"You're still wearing that Bama hat though," Steve accuses.

"'Cause it look _good_ on you!" Alex adds, hopping up the stairs back to the house.

Bucky gives his shoulder a squeeze as he follows him inside. "You know, even _Steve_ didn't get recruited by Ala _bama_."

"Yeah, yeah," Alex says, half-bashful, half-smug.

They file back to the front room, and Alex snags the last gift from under the tree. It's one of those shirt-boxes you fold up yourself, and Alex flops onto the couch with it, then watches Bucky and Steve sit--Bucky next to him on the couch, Steve on his squashy armchair. "Then I can take the car out?" Alex asks.

Steve says, "If you want."

Chuckling, Alex pops the tape on the sides of the box. He slips the lid off and hands it over to Bucky, and then he looks at the contents of the box.

Like, straight-up stares. For a full minute. Or maybe Bucky's exaggerating but he gazes at the box with his mouth open for a long, quiet time.

Bucky doesn't speak. He can feel his fingers shaking and it feels like his lungs are shaking, too. He glances at Steve, then holds up the lid of the box to hide his smile.

That's when Alex finally speaks. Whispers, actually, kind of hoarse like he's been running ten miles. "You're joking."

Steve laughs wetly. "That's what you said when you met us."

"You're joking." Alex looks up, fixing his big puppy eyes on Bucky. "You guys. These are the real papers?"

"Those are the real papers," Bucky confirms.

Alex pulls a stack of papers out of the box. Just white printer paper with a bunch of legalese. He looks at them for a moment, then back at Bucky. "You _guys_."

"You said you were sure about it and all."

"You signed them?" Alex whispers. He runs a fingertip over the name of the foster agency at the top.

"Not yet," Steve steps in. "We didn't want to--without you. Without knowing for sure."

"Yeah I'm sure, God. God I'm sure," Alex says. He leaps out of his seat, but doesn't seem to know what to do with himself. 

Bucky stands up, too: "Here, here. Here, I'll sign them now, if you want."

"Yes!"

"Wait," Steve says, and the other two freeze. "Wait, Buck, I got something for you." He reaches into his pocket. "Merry Christmas."

He hands Bucky a pen. 

And Bucky bursts into laughter. "Oh, Jesus _Christ_." He takes the pen from Steve, then reaches into his own pocket and hands a pen right back to him.

"You too?" Steve asks. 

Bucky looks at his pen; it's got the fucking _Bama_ logo on it, because of _course_ it does, because Steve is a symbolic piece of _shit_. Serves that kid right, though. Steve is still staring a little glassy-eyed at the American State pen Bucky gave him.

"I used that during the game last week," Bucky says nonchalantly.

"Shut up, Buck," Steve says with a smile.

Alex darts to the kitchen, which has the nearest flat surface to write on. He sits there, elbows on the counter, looking over the adoption papers while Bucky and Steve sign. He looks like a little kid. He _is_ a little kid, Christ, Bucky's gonna faint dead away.

"Okay," Steve says, fixing the stack of papers and giving them a pat. "I think that's--oh--"

Alex has sprinted around the counter and tackled Bucky in a bear-hug. "Thank you."

"Hey, yeah, yeah," Bucky holds him close. "Sorry it's--you know. Right when you're about to leave, and all."

"I don't care," Alex whispers. He pulls away and immediately wraps himself around Steve. (God, he's _taller_ than Steve, he's taller than Steve _Rogers_ , Bucky has to really wipe away a real life tear, but they're not looking--)

Steve claps him on the back and lets Alex pull away, finally. His eyes look a little red. _Both_ their eyes look a little red.

"Hey, it's about time, right?" Steve says. His voice sounds wet too, Bucky can fucking tell.

"No, it's _perfect_ , it--" Alex cuts himself off. He looks at Bucky and slides in for another hug. It's softer this time; it's quieter, maybe, not so much muscle but a little more heart. "I never thought," Alex whispers. "I just never thought--before you and Steve. I never--"

"I know." Bucky glances at Steve, then squeezes his eyes shut.

Alex chuckles, and it sort of sounds like he's hiding a sob, but Bucky's swallowing one too, so anyway. "Hey, Bucky," Alex says. "You're still wearing that Bama hat."

"Kid, I'll root for you no matter where you go," Bucky says. "I mean, try not to get drafted by Philly or nothing, but."

Alex laughs. He pulls away and smacks a hand on the adoption papers where they lay on the counter. "Holy shit."

"Yeah," Bucky agrees.

"Can we go for a ride, now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you all know that kid gonna get drafted by the New York Giants, bye.
> 
> merry christmas and happy new year and that :)
> 
> oh, and roll TIDE, i think i've showed a lot of self control til now. roll tide. <3


End file.
